


we will not forever obey

by SerenePanic



Series: the elder brother's life all laced in with the other's [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Keith and Shiro are Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 14:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9612173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenePanic/pseuds/SerenePanic
Summary: All Shiro has ever wanted was to be there for his brother.(Or, why would Shiro continue to fight, millions of light years away from home and with approximately zero chance of ever seeing Earth again?)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Aristotle's Athenian Constitution, Section 5.  
> "But ye who have store of good, who are sated and overflow,  
> Restrain your swelling soul, and still it and keep it low:  
> Let the heart that is great within you be trained a lowlier way;  
> Ye shall not have all at your will, and we will not for ever obey."

_“What’s that kid doing following us?”_

_You look over your shoulder, and see Keith, running, panting, struggling to catch up to you and your friends. You stop walking and turn around, immediately heading towards your brother._

_A hand lands on your shoulder, forcing you to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk._

_“Hey, man, what are you doing?”_

_You try to shrug the hand off. “That’s my brother. I’ll catch up you guys later. Go on ahead, I just have to see what’s wrong.”_

_The hand tightens on your shoulder, and you almost flinch away from the unexpected pain. The voice in your ear changes, getting deeper and more desperate, more broken and lonely. It’s no longer the voice of a teenager._

_“No, Champion, leave him behind. You don’t want him to know what you’ve become.” The hand on your shoulder is your own. It’s your voice you hear. Younger, lonely and breaking, but still your voice._

_The sky clouds over, and it begins to rain._

_You still see Keith, further and further away, even though he’s still running towards you, a small figure in red and black in a haze of gray mist and indistinct city shapes._

_The other you is still talking. Pleading. Begging._

_“Let him go. Don’t drag him into this, please, God, leave Keith out of this. Let him never know.”_

_Let him never know._

_Keith._

_He’ll never know what happened to you. You’ll be just another person who disappeared on him._

_You wrench yourself free and start running towards your brother. He’s small, younger than you remember him (but really, what do you know that you remember anymore?), but clearly Keith, with that terrible haircut he refuses to lose, and those strange clear blue-grey eyes that you swear could almost be purple._

_“Keith—KEITH—KEITH I’M HERE, I’M COMING, KEITH DON’T GO—“ you’re screaming, your voice tearing out of your throat, raw and rasping._

_He looks up at you, and his face crumples. He runs towards you, reaching out—_

_Purple lightning strikes through the air, and Keith falls._

_For a moment, the world is clear. You see as Keith arches into the lightning, suspended for a moment in air, and you see him as he falls, crumpling like a ragdoll onto the bleak beige concrete. His head hits the ground. He does not move again._

_You don’t recognize the sound you’re making._

_The other you pushes past you, reaching Keith’s prone figure almost immediately. He cradles him, gently, brushing Keith’s bangs out of his face. He whispers to Keith, begging him to just open his eyes, to just be okay._

_This you is so young, not even old enough to have graduated the Garrison yet. He probably still lives at home full-time. He’s young—and now he’s shattered._

_(He’s just a child himself.)_

_He looks up at you, face wet._

_“I told you to leave him out of this.” His voice breaks. “God, I just wanted him to be left out of this.”_

_You stumble back. This can’t be—it can’t—Keith—_

_You turn and run. There’s nowhere for you to go, but you run all the same._

_Distantly, you hear whispers and accusations._

_“Do you see him? It’s his fault his brother died.”_

_“He killed that little boy.”_

_“It’d have been better if he’d just left that poor kid alone like he was told to.”_

_The world is blurry. Your face is wet. Are you crying?_

_You must be._

_You don’t remember the last time you cried._

_You’re falling. Into a pit? Into yourself? You don’t even know._

_You’re falling. Sideways, upways, downways, who’s to tell the difference anymore?_

_You’ve hit rock bottom._

_There’s laughter, all around you. It’s loud and high and broken and it chills your aching, beaten bones._

_“Now, Champion, do you see what you are made for?”_

_Lightning is arching towards you. You reach out—_

You wake up.

Your chest is heaving, and your throat is raw. You must have been screaming while you slept.

You force yourself to sit up, fingers scrabbling at the edges of the walls. The place where _their_ arm is connected to _you_ is burning.

The door is forced open, and you’re forced out of your cell and down a hallway. The Galra jailers are indifferent, jostling you roughly and dragging you along.

You’re forced through the gate, and met with the cheering of thousands of Galra, crammed into one place for a circus.

There’s a voice, narrating events as they occur.

“Welcome back to the Arena, Champion.”

The crowd roars.

You are Champion. You will fight, and you will win, because that’s why you’ve been made into what you are.

(Somewhere deep within you, a young boy is crying and pleading. _Please, God, just leave Keith out of this. Let him never know._ )

For the first time in— _months? Years? How long has it been_ —you think of your brother. You think of your family, of where you came from.

You name yourself.

( _I am Takashi Shirogane, and I will not die here._ )

And then, you fight.


End file.
